


You Kissed Me First

by bifactional_disaster



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft: Shadowlands - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Rare Pair, Sorry Not Sorry, emotional whiplash, spot the taylor swift reference, sylvanduin, this is written just as an excuse to make them do the horizontal mambo, yep still shipping that shamelessly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bifactional_disaster/pseuds/bifactional_disaster
Summary: This takes place immediately following the Sylvanas’s Choice cinematic.  I’d recommend a re-watch, even though I’ve written out the last part of the dialogue below. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPOvUQIbP9s
Relationships: Sylvanas Windrunner/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	You Kissed Me First

**Author's Note:**

> For the WWG discord - THE Sylvanduin stan wonderland <3

He crosses a line she doesn’t think she still has—no, that’s not accurate, she knows it's there, but he isn’t supposed to. Somehow, the high king of the Alliance has seen through to something even those closest to her have missed. “Enough!” her voice echoes against the caverns around them. The newly forged mourneblade is pointed at his chest. “Submit! You are only making this harder on yourself.”

“Not harder on me,” Anduin says, looking at her with a compassion that she absolutely loathes. How dare he look at her that way here and now? “Right now, you have all the power. How would you use it?” She understands why the young king chose the priesthood. His cadence is inspiring, and sharpened by his conviction. She holds the sword, but still she feels powerless against him and the way the cursed runes create brighter sparks of blue in his cerulean eyes.

“I’ve not come this far to falter now,” the banshee queen growls low, but in her voice there is a breaking.

He catches it immediately. “Then why do you hesitate?” His words are carefully measured, meant to cut into the darkest parts of her and force the Ranger General back to the surface, meant to hurt enough for her to feel again. “Make your choice, Sylvanas Windrunner.”

There’s a tense pause between them, she doesn’t have to breathe, but he’s also holding his breath, unsure of what to expect. Part of him waits tensely to feel the sting of the blade pierce his heart. Part of him hopes that at the very least she will lower the blade and leave him be. What he doesn’t expect is the sudden clang of the sword on the stone ground, followed by the feel of her cold lips pressing roughly against his own.

At first his arms fly out to try and catch his balance, but in the next moment they wrap around her. After the initial shock, his mouth softens against hers. She overwhelms him and it’s like being swept out to sea. The depth of her need is unfathomable and the emptiness seems like an unending void the banshee has created inside of her. His arms tighten around her and her grip on his armor goes slack. He can’t believe what he’s doing, but he pours himself into her, like he could ease her burden, as if he could heal the wounds in her soul. It’s an impossible task, but he chases it like a mad man.

Sylvanas doesn’t stop him when he pulls the hood of her cloak down sharply, freeing her ears and her hair, but when she feels the hand beneath her shoulders start looking for the buckles for her armor, she pulls back. “Do you think seducing me is going to save you?” she asks, even though she’s the one who kissed him first.

“No,” Anduin replies honestly, chasing her mouth. “Will it?”

“No,” she responds in kind and allows him to capture her lips again. His mouth is so warm and alive and he spars with her tongue as admirably as he had on the battlefield. She’ll come out on top here as well though. Her hands dig into his armor again, feeling under the heavy plate to release the clasps. His chest plate is loosed at the same time as he’s figured out how to get the vicious-looking shoulders off of her. More clattering, as they undressed each other in earnest each time he had to stop and catch his breath from her demanding kisses.

When she’s finally got him naked from the waist up, she takes a moment to appraise him and he squirms under her gaze. Good. His skin feels like it’s on fire compared to the cold palms that smooth over his shoulders and chest. Pale flesh pebbles up with goosebumps as her nails rake carefully down the center of his chest and stomach, leaving light pink scratch marks in their wake—a promise of things to come. “Are you sure this is what you want, little lion?” she asks, a single finger tracing along the faint stubble of his jaw to turn his head to look at her. 

“You kissed me,” he reminds her, catching her by the wrist so that he can pull her closer and relieve her of more of her armor. She doesn’t have a come back except to smirk at him and watch in rapt attention as his fingertips stroke down the inside of her wrist far more tenderly than she is accustomed to.  _ More than you deserve _ , the banshee hisses back to her, reminding the still soft parts of her where she belonged in all of it.

His hands move to her waist and she is pulled flush against the front of his body, this time to remove the leather armor that protected her midsection. Red eyes glance up again now that they’re so close and she takes pleasure from the warmth seeping into her through the leather before he removes it. Sylvanas remains still as he finishes undressing her, helping when necessary. She lets Anduin lead because she’s already taken so many of his other choices. Or perhaps, because she expects him to stop at any moment, but he doesn’t.

She watches his throat bob when he swallows as he takes in the sight of her—his enemy, his captor, a goddess that was within reach in the darkness of the Maw. It isn’t going to fix the situation, it isn’t getting him any closer to a way to get out, but for a time he can pretend they’re somewhere else. His hand caresses over the swell of her hip. “Light, Sylvanas...” he murmurs but she silences him with her mouth over his. She doesn’t want to hear what he has to say, she doesn’t want him to tell her she’s beautiful. Sylvanas can read his face and know that he thinks it, but she can’t bear to hear him say those things to her.

Anduin is caught up in her kiss again and he can judge from the way her hands cradle his face firmly enough that he can’t easily pull away that she wants to shut him up. After all, his words are what drove them to this point. He’s happy to oblige for now and instead lets his hands do the talking—first along her body in an appreciative exploration of all the soft and strong parts of her that he could reach, but then also with how swiftly he finished removing his own armor. 

Sylvanas isn’t prepared when he scoops her up suddenly and she bites his shoulder hard enough to break the skin in protest. He yelps and nearly drops her, but she catches herself with her arms around the back of his neck. When Anduin looks down, she’s glaring at him, but it doesn’t have the same feeling of imminent death that it usually carries. “What?” he asks, carrying her over and placing her down on her cloak so that there is a barrier between her and the dusty stone beneath her.

“You  _ almost _ dropped me,” she drawls, clinging to him just a little longer as he lays her out in front of him.

“You  _ actually  _ bit me,” Anduin quips back. The sight of the high elf stretched out makes him forget the pain and the small pricks of blood that are welling up on his shoulder. She provides one hell of a distraction and he considers that he should have been having their arguments like this the entire time he’d been here. Would it have convinced him otherwise? No, of course not, but when she arches her back and her knees fall open to reveal just how ready she is for him--he isn’t so sure. 

His lack of experience intimidates him when compared to the elf whom he’s sure has known more than one lover, but he’s heard enough that he’s confident he can manage. Anduin starts to lower himself down, but when his bad knee hits the stone he visibly winces. Having spent so long on his knees hasn’t done him any favors, and less so without any padding. He tenses, and he knows she felt it in his muscles, and certainly saw it on his face. It’s confirmed when her hands move to cup his face again. Cool thumb smooth over his brows to unknit the way they were drawn together in pain. That damn bell. Ruby eyes follow the tension in his body until she can see his ruined knee. 

“Ah,” her voice echoes softly, and he’s expecting a cutting remark from her, but it doesn’t come. Sylvanas has no interest in insults right now. Instead she shifts onto her side and hooks a leg behind the knee opposite of her foot and pulls so that he’s flipped onto his back none-too-gently. While he tries to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him, she straddles him just in front of the straining cock, allowing the length to nestle into the cleft of her well-rounded arse.

His eyes widen comically and so does her feral smirk; it seems his reaction has confirmed her suspicion. He may feel inadequate due to his lack of experience, but Sylvanas is pleased that he doesn’t know the difference, won’t miss the warmth of coupling with a living woman. Maybe if he survives the whole ordeal he’ll find a wife and realize what this moment is missing, the thought sends a sharp stab of jealousy that she can’t account for. Her palms press against his stomach and slide up along his chest and over his shoulders. 

Sylvanas leans forward and her nails dig into his shoulders, pulling herself so that her mouth hovers over his, and the head of his shaft brushes against her opening. “Look at the position you’ve gotten yourself into,” she purrs, so close that her lips flutter over his with each word. At the same time, she presses back, easing just the tip of him in before she denies him further access. He groans in protest and the hands on her hips tightened until his fingers pressed deep indentations into lush curves. If she’d been living, it would have left bruises. She considers if her little lion liked it rough. She wishes she had more time to find out. 

The more he needs her, the more she makes him wait. Her head bows and she leaves a trail of bruising kisses across the top of his chest and opposite shoulder. “Where’s your patience, priest?” she bites the lobe of his ear when she says it, “your discipline?”

“Infuriating banshee!” he growls and pulls himself into a sitting position. It slides her backwards and joins them deliciously. He burrows against the side of her neck, kissing and biting, but she can tell from his breathing that he’s trying not to cum immediately. She grants him at least some grace and moves to distract him. Her nose brushes against the rough stubble of his jaw, and then the side of his mouth until he turns his head and kisses her. His arms gather her closer to him, grateful for the reprieve of a kissing session. 

Anduin’s broad hands stroke over her back. Pressed against him, her breasts almost feel warm and she can imagine that his heartbeat is her own, able to feel it both in her chest and the way he throbs inside of her. Sylvanas rolls her hips forward and he breaks away from her mouth to groan audibly. His fingers dig into the top of her shoulders, trying to keep her from pulling away again. He needs to be deeper inside of her and he makes a move to try and flip them over, but she’s having none of that. She takes one of his hands and bites his palm before she twists his arm up behind his back, causing a different, pained groan from the man beneath her. He hisses in discomfort, swearing softly beneath his breath.

She doesn’t relent until he behaves and lies back once more. He does, but grabs some of the leather armor to rest his head on so that he can have an unobscured view. Anduin swallows thickly, unprepared for how erotic it would be to see the two of them joined together. His eyes closed and he released a breath he was holding through his nose. He can still hear her needling about his patience and discipline. He doesn’t feel like either of those things. He wants to pin her beneath him and fuck her until she’s crying out his name--not one of the goading names she has for him, but  _ his  _ name. Unfortunately with his knee and their current surroundings, it seems an impossible fantasy.

Instead, he opens his eyes again to watch the graceful woman on top of him. Silvery blonde hair falls over her shoulders and contrasts sharply with her death-darkened skin. Crimson eyes burn with power and desire. Desire for him. Sylvanas has never seemed to want anything except to win, and perhaps this is just an extension of that, she’s conquered him. He doesn’t mind--if he could have gone to her bed and brought peace between the Alliance and the Horde he would gladly do so each night--each day--multiple times if she wished. 

Sylvanas starts to move slowly, with an otherworldly control that drives him to the brink of sanity as much as anything else she’s done to him here. He thrusts up into her, trying to gain more traction, but she only gives him what she wants, keeping him teetering on the edge until she feels certain that he’s gone out of his mind with need. Around the edges her form blurs and a dark mist gathers around them. Tendrils of dark power hook into him, piercing through him and wrapping the two of them up like ribbons and lifting them from the ground. Anduin feels drunk on the power flowing through him. It isn’t the light, but it feels just as natural, and maybe that will scare him later, but it doesn’t now. 

Lifted, Anduin is free of having to sacrifice his knee and he pulls the Banshee Queen flush against his chest. Her eyes are luminescent with power, even half-lidded as they were with pleasure. His whole body feels alive and he realizes that the dark power that tethers them together is providing the same sensations to her. He capitalizes on it and thrusts more firmly into her to test his theory and the ripples of desire that course through him tie directly back to her. He uses the connection to guide him, and suddenly the fantasy of fucking her like he wants is within reach.

Anduin takes control of her body, giving himself freely in exchange to be a source of power and share the burden of keeping them suspended like this. Sylvanas doesn’t fight him, but encourages him with soft echoing sounds of appreciation as he positions her with her legs around his body. It’s impossible to see precisely where she ends and he begins, but his hands do the searching until they find purchase where he wants them. One hefts her leg up so that it’s over his shoulder and the other wraps up along her back until he’s holding the shoulder opposite of her lifted leg. It allows him extra depth inside of her and he feels the spike of pleasure shoot through her. The lion grins in triumph, though it’s hidden against her collar bone where he plants a row of open-mouthed kisses.

He feels divine and she thinks if she was alive he could have made her a believer in the light again. The banshee’s power flowed effortlessly through him, using his own to weave a web that kept them aloft in the cascading black mist that fell like a waterfall onto the floor and then dissipated. She’s distracted and it allows him to get the upper hand. Sylvanas feels the exact moment when he sinks the rest of the way into her and her body jolts with a sudden shock of pleasure. 

She swears, but it sounds more like a prayer and Anduin can feel her simultaneously gripping him harder, but also surrendering to him. Now it’s his turn to take, and take her he does. With a fierce grip, he holds her in place as he drives into her mercilessly, stroking each time in a way that causes the connection to flare with sensation so strong it steals his breath. But it doesn’t stop him. He fucks her until his vision starts to blur from how tightly wound she is, but he doesn’t give her the climax she’s chasing and pulls mostly out of her, maintaining a shallow stroke to keep her precariously balanced on the edge of ecstasy without letting her fall over.

It’s a process he repeats three times before she finally threatens to drop him if he stops again and he chuckles in response--nearly delirious with his own denied orgasms as he draws out her torment. “You need only ask, Dark Lady,” he breathes against her ear and she physically shivers in his grasp.

“You are hardly in a position to be making demands, little lion,” her tone is venomous, but shaking.

His smile darkens and he slams into her harder and she shudders again. “Am I so little?” he asks, slowly pulling himself out until just the head of his cock remains. When he sinks back into her it’s set at a brutal pace. “Do you still see me as a boy, Sylvanas? Can you still look down on me when you’re here beneath me now?” his voice is a growl and there’s a promise of something darker just on the other side of it.

She can feel the scream welling up in her throat each time their bodies collide and he refuses to give her release. Her eyes close tightly and she has to decide between swallowing her pride or continuing to be denied. Distasteful as it is to her, she chooses the first. “Anduin, please,” she grits out between her teeth as she writhes against him.

“Say it again,” he demands, but softer this time.

“I will not be made to beg!” she cries, thrashing in his arms. The web woven between their power pulses with his heartbeat, overwhelming her senses. And he wants her to beg? Has he forgotten who she is? Where he is? 

“No,” he soothes, smoothing a hand over her forehead and pushing the hair away from her face. “I want to hear you say my name, Sylvanas.”

Her eyes fluttered open and met his. There was a softness in his gaze that held her as gently as he did with his hands. There’s an ache in her chest she’s unaccustomed to, and she tells herself that she’s just feeling his emotions--ridiculous and useless as they were. But she can’t deny the very real twist in the center of her chest when she reaches for him and breathes his name just over a whisper, “Anduin…”

His mouth covers her to muffle her cries when he begins a new barrage, battering her body with his own until they both fell from the precipice, clinging to each other’s lips, swallowing the sounds of their climax. The web of power that had been woven around them, keeping them aloft exploded outward, shaking the walls around them with the eruption. They’re dropped back to the ground gently, arranged so that she is lying on top of him. His hands settle at the small of her back, drawing small circles as he tries to catch his breath with the extra weight of the elf on top of him. 

Slowly, his hand moves up until he can twist a piece of her hair around his finger in an intimate gesture that shatters the moment. Sylvanas sits up and looks down at him with malice burning in her eyes. Her gaze is accusing, but he can still feel the undercurrent of her emotions. Hurt, fear, disbelief. He’s given her no reason to feel those things, and she doesn’t want to feel them, so they are twisted into anger. He can recognize it, but he can’t fix it. He reaches up for her and she stands, backing away from him. Evidence of their coupling spills down her inner thighs.

Anduin is on his feet, slower than she was, but he tries to rush--knowing that if she flees the circle that he can’t get to her. The urge to pull her to him and comfort her is strong, but he approaches her like he would a frightened creature, trying to get close without causing it to bolt or bite. “Sylvanas…” he begins gently. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. She gathers her clothes and puts the runes between the two of them, still standing naked. “This didn’t happen,” she says, her voice tense and fragile. She’s visibly shaken by what transpired, by what she felt--what she still feels, even with space between them. The sword is picked up, but she doesn’t point it at him again. “I can’t stop what’s coming,” she tells him mournfully. “Just remember that you had a choice,” she tells him before retreating from the chamber quickly.

“So did you,” he calls after her, and has to be content with cleaning himself up as best he can and getting dressed again. She is gone from his sight, but her essence lingers, and he is still able to feel her--she’s thinking about him, too.


End file.
